Professor Potter

Chapter 37

Chapter 37 

Harry stood up and walked to the window of the library for the fourth time in the last hour. Ginny had gone into labor shortly before noon and it was now approaching midnight. He had gotten the message halfway through his last class and dismissed them early and Disapparated directly home. In the master bedroom with Ginny now were her mother, the midwife, and once again a Healer and nurse from St. Mungo's. Ginny had regained her strength through the month of forced inactivity and sleep assistance but Harry was still glad for the extra help. Several hours earlier he had been told by Molly Weasley it was likely to be a long night since the baby didn't seem to be in any hurry to make his or her debut. 

He had tried reading but he was having trouble staying focused. As he stood looking out at the night sky he let his thoughts drift. After a moment or two they settled on the Quidditch camp. It was becoming more and more evident that the program was successful. Attendance was up and the skill level of the participants was noticeably higher. He was also sure that the popularity of the club matches had had a significant impact on attendance. More than one of the volunteer coaches indicated that there were some very solid professional prospects among the senior students. 

Harry had to smile when he thought about how Anton DuBonais had looked. True to his word, the boy appeared nervous and uncomfortable when he had to sit the broom at a hover but once he was moving with any speed the nerves disappeared and his face was either a mask of concentration or split by a big smile. More importantly he was definitely showing the makings of a beater. When he connected solidly he was easily outdistancing any of the other youngsters and a few shots approached those of the more senior fliers. Only time would tell whether or not the lad lived up to expectations but it was obvious that he was having fun. 

His thoughts began to drift again and touched on a number of memories including the welcoming feast, the sorting of the new first years and his initial classes but nothing held his attention for more than a few seconds. The next solid thought was the conversation he had had with Firenze before the start of the new term. It had answered a few questions for Harry but also opened up a whole new vista of unknowns for him. What was this future that the Centaur had spoken of and what was his role going to be? Was Hogwarts merely a stop along the way or was it all tied together? 

He had considered these questions as time allowed but decided since he still had access to the seemingly central figure he would ask questions instead of just waiting for the answers. So several days after the start of the new term Harry went to the Room of Requirements. When he swung the door open the found the room as it usually was when he wanted to talk to Dumbledore except this time there was no chair. He thought about this for a moment and concluded that perhaps it was fitting that he be standing on his own two feet for this conversation. He closed the door and faced the empty portrait frame. 

"Excuse me, Professor Dumbledore, sir. A moment of your time, please." 

"Harry? Is that you? I'll be there directly," came the slightly muffled voice of his mentor along with a few murmurs. 

A moment later the familiar image of the Professor walked into view. 

"Harry, it's good to see you again. I trust your summer has gone well." 

"For the most part, sir. Ginny was a bit unwell the past few weeks but she is getting better, lack of sleep," Harry replied. 

"Ah, I am sorry to hear that, my boy, but I'm pleased to know she is improving," the former Headmaster said with a small smile. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" 

"Sir, shortly before the term began, I had a long discussion with Firenze. Well, he talked and I mostly listened. He told me some things that raised some serious questions. I believe you hold the answers and I would like for you to share them with me," Harry finished, his posture unconsciously settling into that which Abagail had captured in his portrait, minus the wand of course.